


End This Way

by PhantomDragon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blood, Character Death, Dean Winchester/Original Character - Freeform, F/M, Language, Monster Movie Project, Werewolves, biokinesis, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:31:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomDragon/pseuds/PhantomDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mara Keightly has a gift that's a both a blessing and curse and when a hostage swap goes wrong; she's left with a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	End This Way

Crickets. That’s all she could hear. Clicks and chirps that bounced from being in perfect harmony to just a cacophony of sound. Though sometimes they trilled and she could swear they were in the room with her. She would welcome the little insect if it were, but no. The things that were with her were much worse.

Her thoughts drifted from the song of the crickets to the people-

… _People._

The word felt bitter in her mind. No, they looked like people, acted like people, but they were monsters. Werewolves. Most days felt like a dream, but the nightmare didn’t end when she woke.

A breeze through the open window sent a chill down her spine and she pulled the thick blanket up to her chin. At least they’d given her something warm. Of course they would though. She was “valuable”.

The mattress springs creaked as she turned her back to the ma- werewolf seated across the room. He was her personal guard, keeping eyes on her all hours of the day. Hell, they’d hardly let her go to the bathroom alone at first and that was only after they’d triple checked the cramped room for anything sharper than a toothbrush.

A nearly inaudible sigh passed her lips as she brought her knees up to her chest and let her eyelids fall. Saving that guy had been the worst mistake of her life. 

The night it happened the moon had been full, making it easy to traverse the winding road on her way home; easy to see the man lying in the middle of the lane when she rounded the bend. She’d slammed the brakes on, pulling her ‘96 Fleetwood Brougham to a squealing halt mere feet from the immobile man. She’d stayed still for a minute, listening to the sound of her own breath before grabbing her sidearm. She knew what was out there. Couldn’t be too careful. Exiting the car slowly, she’d made her way to the fallen man, only lowering her gun when she’d seen the blood. Hard to miss really. There was a lot.

After hastily shoving her pistol into her jacket pocket, she’d knelt before the man and ignoring the blood seeping into her jeans, had gingerly turned him onto his back so she could see the damage. He’d been a mess. Two gunshot wounds, one to the chest and one to the gut, and countless cuts across his arms and face. Looked like he’d been running through trees. 

She’d frowned and felt for his pulse, her fingers sliding on his blood. Almost… _there._ Very shallow and weak. He would die if she didn’t do something.

Her dark brown hair had fallen around her face as she’d hovered over him, her hands a hair’s breadth from the bullet holes. This would take a lot. More than she’d ever given. 

… _Fuck it._

With a silent prayer on her lips, she’d closed her eyes and focused, pulling the warmth coursing through her veins down her arms to her hands. The heat had settled in her palms and fingertips, making them a luminous red. A gasp had escaped her lips as tiny tendrils of lightning formed and shot from her hands to his body; each one took her strength little by little and gave it to the man. She’d grown ever weaker as the man’s wounds slowly healed, knitting the damage together from the inside out. She’d been so focused she hadn’t felt the man begin to stir, not until the last cut was completely closed and she’d fallen back with a ragged gasp.

She’d managed to scoot backwards until she hit the bumper of her car before her vision started going blurry. It’d felt like she was on fire. Her lungs, her eyes, her hands. It took all the strength left in her to keep breathing.

The man had risen to his knees, pulling his shirt aside and using the headlights from her car to see the bullet holes were gone. _“Holy shit…”_ he’d murmured. 

She heard his footfalls coming closer, but couldn’t open her eyes, even when she’d felt his arms lifting her into the air, even when he’d set her in the passenger seat. She’d just sat there, listening to him hurry around the other side of her car and climb in, start the engine, and take off. She’d started slipping in and out of consciousness then, only faintly hearing him speak in bits and bits. _“…something fuck-… incredible happened… no, she needs… hospital…”_ He went silent for a while then last thing she’d heard before everything went black was _“…fine. Heading back now.”_

It’d taken two weeks for her to wake up and when she had, she’d found herself in a trailer. A quick check had told her that her gun and phone were gone and a look around the room had revealed the very man she’d saved sitting across the room from her. Only he wasn’t a man. Her heart had never sunk so fast in her life when he’d held up one of the twisted bullets her healing had expelled. A silver bullet. Apparently there was a whole pack and what better to protect a pack of werewolves against hunters than a healer. 

_“What’s your name?”_ he’d asked.

When she didn’t answer, he’d shrugged and pulled a wallet from his pocket, her wallet. _“Well, I’m Monroe.”_ He’d paused and looked down at the wallet in his hands. _“You know, it’ll be easier on everybody if you’re cooperative, Ms,”_ he’d flicked her license out. _“…Mara Keightley.”_

A test. From a werewolf. Really.

She’d refused to speak and for a few minutes the air was filled with a heavy silence. 

Monroe had run a hand through his short, curly hair and stood, hesitating before he went out the door. _“For what it’s worth, it wasn’t my idea to bring you here. I was gonna take you to the hospital, but…”_ he’d trailed off and without another word had left her alone.

It’d been another half a week before she’d felt well enough to go outside and when they did let her, she’d been accompanied by a guard, almost always Monroe, who stayed close by. Turns out the pack had set up in an abandoned campground smack dab in the middle of nowhere with thick trees going as far as the eye could see. Perfect.

That had been five weeks ago. Five weeks since she’d seen him. Five weeks that she knew he’d been scouring the earth to find her.

The front door slammed unexpectedly, sending her heart beating wildly in her chest. Great. The others were back. She pulled her blanket past her ears and tried to ignore them.

Lance, her bodyguard tonight, looked up from his book in time to see Curtis burst into the trailer, red faced and panting. “Yo, what’s wrong with you?” he frowned at his friend.

Curtis didn’t answer, only whipped his head from side to side to scan the trailer. When he didn’t see what he was looking for, he turned to the smaller man. “Where’s Rodgers?”

Lance lifted one shoulder in a lopsided shrug and dropped his book onto the table. “He went out a couple hours ago. Why, what’s the matter?” he repeated, his pale eyes widening at the sight of Curtis’ torn and bloody jacket.

Curtis took a few more deep breaths before glancing down the narrow aisle toward the bedroom; the bedroom where the woman spent most of her time. “Winchesters,” he hissed. “Ran into them just outside town. Me and Rick, we got cut off and they-,” Curtis paused and ran a hand over his smooth scalp. “They took Rick, man. Must be after the damn X-lady.”

Lance slammed his fist into the table. _“Shit.”_

Mara froze. Winchesters? _Dean._

“Yeah. Listen, Rick’s weak. He’s gonna roll over if he hasn’t already, we gotta get the others together and-”

“Half the fucking camp’s gone right now!” Lance interrupted. “Alex went out on a supply run with Rodgers, Felicia and Mikey went out hours ago doing who knows what.”

“So?” Curtis countered. “Half should be more than enough for these two assholes.”

Lance shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, man. There’s some crazy stories about them. I think we should head out.”

The bigger man stared at his friend incredulously. “What- fuck, no, we got this. C’mon, wake the others and let’s get ready.”

“What about her?” Lance questioned, pointing down the trailer at Mara.

“Stick her in the cage. She can’t get out and there’s only one way in here.”

Lance nodded in agreement and stood, opening the door. “I’ll go wake the others-” he froze mid sentence. “Do you hear that?”

Curtis leaned his head out of the door and listened. “Yeah. An engine. And not one of ours.” He turned to Lance and pushed him in the direction of Mara. “Hurry up and put her in the cage, I’ll get the others.”

Lance hurried down the hall as Curtis ran outside, gravel crunching underfoot. 

Mara listened as he came closer, counting his footsteps until he was in her room. This was her chance and she’d be damned if she didn’t take it. “Wake up, girl,” he started, grabbing hold of her blanket. 

_Almost…_

The second the blanket started to move, she tensed, waiting.

_Now._

Mara lunged from the bed and tackled the off-guard Lance to the floor, pelting him with with everything she had until he stopped moving.

Ignoring her now split knuckles, she pushed herself off the floor and ran to the door. She could hear the engine clearer now and her heart soared. There was no mistaking the sound of a ‘67 Impala. 

But they were too close. The trap. She began sprinting on silent feet. If she could get to them first they wouldn’t even reach it. Mara slowed to duck around a camper, avoiding the light streaming from the window then sprinted all out again. Almost to the tree line. Just one more camper to get past.

She slowed once more when she heard a thud inside the last one, skirting between the camper and a pickup truck when a hand caught her wrist and yanked her around. 

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Rodgers asked.

Mara pulled against the wolf’s grip, but he held her as easily as if she was a child. He cocked his head at her, his eyes turning snake like as he listened to the engine roaring through the forest. “Trying to get to your little friends, huh? We’ll see about that,” he sneered.

She couldn’t even resist as he threw her effortlessly over his shoulder and headed back to the center of the trailers where a few of the others were already waiting. Rodgers unceremoniously dropped her on the ground between them. “One of you take her now,” he ordered. “They want to make a trade, so let’s give ‘em one.”

 _No. No, no, no,_ Mara thought. This was wrong, all wrong. 

Monroe stepped forward to take her arm and pulled her off the ground to stand beside him as headlights became visible through the treeline. Besides him and Rodgers, Alex, the lean smirking she-wolf, and Curtis stood together. At least the sun was finally starting to come up. Another minute later and the Impala came into view, cruising to a halt twenty yards from the group. Mara’s heart skipped a beat as the driver’s door opened and out came Dean, pistol in hand and eyes locked on her. Monroe’s grip on her arm tightened, but she couldn’t move even if she wanted too. She was frozen in fear, watching as he went around to the passenger’s door and dragged a bloody man out by his shirt collar. 

_Sam, where’s Sam?_

Curtis took note too, turning to Alex to whisper, “where’s the other one?”

Dean shoved the man, Rick, forward until they stood twenty feet from the group and locked eyes with Mara again before glaring daggers at Rodgers. “Here’s your man. Send her over then I’ll send him.”

Rodgers shook his head. “Send him first, then you’ll get the girl.”

Dean’s jaw visibly clenched as he pressed the pistol a little harder into Rick’s shoulder. “Meet in the middle, asshole,” he countered through gritted teeth.

Rodgers glanced sideways at Monroe and nodded his head in agreement. “You got yourself a deal, Winchester.”

“C’mon,” Monroe muttered to Mara, leading her toward Dean one step at a time.

The pack leader watched in silence until the four were halfway to each other. “So, where’s that sasquatch of a brother?”

Anyone not studying Dean’s footsteps would’ve missed the tiny falter in his stride. “I came alone,” he returned smoothly, his eyes constantly moving between the wolves, watching carefully for any move.

Dean watched Rodgers cross his arms and cock his head in a way that screamed “sure you did,” but didn’t reply because Mara was _right_ there, five feet from him. Now four, three, then two feet and then time seemed to slow as he held out his hand to her; as a gunshot pierced the silence. Dean looked away from Mara’s wide eyes to see Rick stagger and fall to his knees and looked up to see Rodgers holding a sidearm.

Monroe turned just in time to see his aim shift directly at Mara. He didn’t even think, just lunged forward and shoved her aside, taking himself, her, and inadvertently, Dean, to the ground as the second shot rang out. Then there was yet another shot, this one a loud crack from a rifle and it was Rodgers’ turn to fall to the ground, a fist sized hole where his heart used to be.

“I’d stay still unless you want to end up like your buddy there!” a voice shouted through the trees. Alex and Curtis shifted on their feet, but didn’t move.

_Sam._

Mara let herself sigh with relief. She knew Dean wouldn’t have come without backup. Turning to Dean, she took one look at him and she could swear her heart stopped. His handsome face was twisted in pain, his hands to his jacket growing rapidly crimson. “Dean, Dean, no,” she gasped, putting her hands atop his and pressing down with all her might.

Dean groaned under the pressure and coughed twice, the second sending a thin trickle of blood down the side of his mouth. 

“No, Dean, stay- stay with me,” Mara pleaded, her eyes burning with unshed tears.

Dean, her Dean, reached up to brush her face and she could feel his life draining. “Fuck, no, no, baby. S-Sam!” she yelled desperately. She could immediately hear movement in the forest and knew he was coming. Monroe went to stand near the other two wolves, keeping an eye on them now that Sam couldn’t.

Dean’s chest rose and fell raggedly beneath her hands as he let his hand fall back down. “It’s… it’s okay,” he coughed, doing his best to smile through blood stained teeth.

Her tears fell now, splashing onto his chest to mingle with the blood. “No, it’s not,” she choked out.

Dean’s eyes widened as she closed hers, knowing she was about to heal him. “It’s to-too much. You could di-die.” 

“I can’t let you die,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to,” a voice snarled.

Her eyes opened in time to see Lance charge and knock her to the ground. She rolled with it, coming up on her knees and firing back at the wolf with everything she had. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Alex and Curtis each grab one of Monroe’s arms, holding him back.

Lance laughed off her efforts and grabbed her arm, forcing her to her knees beside Dean, who tried to reach for his gun, but was stopped by Lance’s boot on his wrist.

Monroe struggled against the two holding him. “You don’t have to do this!”

“Yes, we do!” Alex snapped. “We’re a pack and they killed one of our own. Why don’t you learn?!” she demanded, kicking him down to his knees.

“I’m not like you,” he spat, wrenching his arm free first from her grasp, then Curtis’ and stood before them.

Alex scoffed and pulled her own pistol out of the back of her jeans. “Then die like them.”

Monroe stared back, unwilling to give her the satisfaction of flinching. “At least I won’t die a monster.”

Before she could raise her pistol, another went off once, then twice and both wolves fell to the ground in front of Monroe, who stared wide-eyed at the man who came out from behind the closest trailer. 

“I warned you,” Sam muttered towards the bodies before going past Monroe toward the last wolf. “Let her go.”

Mara didn’t give him an option, taking the opportunity to drive her elbow into Lance’s gut and follow it up with a savage kick to his temple and he went out like a light by Dean- _Dean._

Mara fell to her knees beside his still form, fumbling to find his pulse. “No, no, no, no,” she whispered. There was none. But there had to be one. There had to be. Footsteps came behind her and she looked up through blurry eyes to see Sam. “Sam, I… he’s-” her voice cracked and she stopped as he knelt beside her, taking one of her hands in his as his own tears rolled unbidden down his cheeks.

They stayed in silence for a minute before Mara pulled her hand from Sam’s. “I can’t do this.” 

Sam watched her hover her hands above Dean’s unmoving chest before he understood. “Mara… You’ll die if you do this. And it might not even work.”

Mara shook her head. “I don’t care. If he’s not here, I’m dead in any way that matters.” She turned her pale blue eyes to Sam’s. “It’s my fault he’s dead. I have to try,” she whispered.

Before Sam could say anything, she began, wrenching the electric fire down her arms and out of her hands faster than she’d ever done before. Sam could only watch as she shot tendrils of electricity into his brother. 

For a nerve wracking minute, nothing happened. She didn’t feel that ache in her bones when she gave her strength. She closed her eyes and focused everything on just one spot until… there. It was working, pulling the bullet away from his spine, fixing the hole in his lung. By the time the path the bullet had traveled was healed, she could barely sit up. But even then, she redoubled her efforts, this time on his heart. Her heart beat for two as she poured everything she had into it, even her very soul. “…Come back.”

The ragged gasp was music to her ears.

His eyes shot open, staring blindly for a few breaths until he turned to see her leaning motionless in Sam’s arms. Pain etched across his face as he pieced together what happened. “No…”

Sam looked up at his brother through glassy eyes. “I’m sorry, Dean,” he choked out.

Dean didn’t answer, only took her, his Mara, into his arms. “We had a deal,” he whispered. “Remember? If something happened, you’d let me go.”

Dean didn’t know how long he held her there, but by the time he looked up again, the sun was high in the sky and all the wolves’ bodies were gone. A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Sammy.

“Dean. It’s time. Let’s take her home.”

Dean couldn’t speak, so he nodded and pressed one soft kiss to her forehead. Sam helped him to his feet and to the Impala, sliding her gently onto the back seat. Without a word, Dean handed his little brother the keys, settling in the passenger’s seat as Sam fired up the engine to give Mara one last ride.

Dean nodded off after an hour or so and woke to a night sky. Sam pretended not to notice when his head whipped to the back seat, pretended not to know he was checking to see if the nightmare was real. 

Dean closed his eyes for a second before turning back to the road, back to the living nightmare. But every once in a while, he glanced back, thinking he’d seen a flash of red in the corner of his eye.


End file.
